


Back On The Road

by bergann



Series: Roadtrip [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gen, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergann/pseuds/bergann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're going on a road trip," Ray says, cheerfully. "Only, like, a peaceful one. Without shooting some motherfucking Hajjis, which is a dying shame I know, but apparently the rules on that sort of thing are stricter outside of a war zone, who knew?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back On The Road

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt over at [](http://community.livejournal.com/yagkyas/profile)[**yagkyas**](http://community.livejournal.com/yagkyas/)'s Good Cookie post: _Person (and anyone else) - singing Lady Gaga_

  
Brad steps out of the airport into the summer heat and raises a hand to hail a cab when a Ford Explorer pulls up right in front of him, the passenger side window rolling down.

"Person," Brad says, "Might I inquire as to why your whiskey tango sister-fucking ass is stalking me on my leave?" He opens the car door though, and gets in. Ray's grinning behind his stupid gold J-Lo sunglasses and looking pleased with the world.

"Brad, man, don't be like that," Ray says, "We haven't seen each other in months. Where's the love? The happy tears of our reunion?"

"I save all my happy tears for when I don't have to stare at your rat ugly face," Brad says, because it's what is expected of him. Also, it's true, and Brad hates to lie. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"We're going on a road trip," Ray says, cheerfully. "Only, like, a peaceful one. Without shooting some motherfucking Hajjis, which is a dying shame I know, but apparently the rules on that sort of thing are stricter outside of a war zone, who knew?"

"Ray," Brad says carefully, "Please tell me this is your idea of a joke."

"No joke, Brad, I'm serious. One hundred percent serious. Like, considering a bullet in Captain America's head serious, that's how serious I am. We have drifted apart and it's a dying shame, and I know how much you love being on the road with your pal Ray-Ray, it seemed like the best solution." Brad tries to open the door, figures he's lived through worse injuries than those that can be sustained jumping from a car driven by a fucking hick, but it's locked. Ray tsks. "C'mon, don't tell me you aren't thrilled. I'm saving you from 6 weeks of going absolutely Trombley from boredom. You should be thanking me."

"_Thanking_ you?" Brad snaps, "Ray, I had plans and it's going to take me a hell of a lot less time to go Trombley stuck in a car with your Olympic-level retarded ass 24/7."

"Please, give me some credit here, man. I'm a former Recon Marine. I worked under this one guy, maybe you've heard of him, his name was the Iceman, who like taught me shit. I've seen your sorry excuse for a day planner, and the only plans you have is to get more speeding fines on your bike."

"You broke into my apartment?"

"I had to," Ray shrugs, "You needed some clothes. I'm not the heartless type who'd make you reuse the stuff from your duffel, man, I know how stinky that shit can get."

"Ray, you are by far the most annoying, irritating, smug, retarded, whiskey tango fucking --"

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too, Brad," Ray smiles, turns up the volume on the radio and drums on the steering wheel with his fingers as he sings, "Nothin' wrong with being just a little vain. We need a little pretty 'cause this country's insane, so go ahead and label me whatever you like --"

*

 

"Really?" Brad says, as they're pulling away from the hotel where Ray had stopped just long enough to pick up another passenger. "Next I suppose we're picking up fucking Trombley."

Walt grins at him and shrugs. "It sounded like fun," he says, "besides, it was easier to get Ray to shut up than by telling him 'no'."

"I resent that implication," Ray says, "And no, this is a Trombley-free trip. Like I'd let that psycho into a car I am actually responsible enough to have to pay for." Brad stares at him until Ray sighs disgustedly and says, "He's busy teaching his son how to best gut a virgin or something twisted, he told me to say hi though."

"And neither of you thought to warn me?" Brad demands of Walt. "What happened to reporting to your superiors?"

"To be honest, sir," Walt says, with this twist to his mouth like he's laughing at Brad, "with Bravo that was never really about telling the complete truth. I mean, I did tell you there'd be a surprise when you got home."

"I thought you meant you'd finally knocked your girlfriend up or something," Brad says, and watches through the mirror as Walt's face twists hilariously.

"Why would I save that for when you got home?" He asks, and Brad shrugs, "It's what my ex did."

There's an awkward silence in the car until Ray says, "But then it is a well-known fact that your ex is an evil bitch sent directly from the lowest circle of hell."

"We're friends."

"And that's what this road trip is all about," Ray says, with a nod to himself. "How'd you feel about the World's Largest Ball of Twine?"

"Makes for a big easy target to unload my gun into," Brad says, and grins.

"You have to have better plans than that," Walt complains, and the car swerves dangerously for a moment as Ray digs around in the glove compartment and gets his hand 'accidentally' trapped there by Brad's knee until their shrieks have reached sufficient volume for Brad to feel like he's made his point.

Ray passes the maps back to Walt and says, "We should have the LT here. At least then there'd be someone around who could slap you, you crazy motherfucker."

Brad grins, puts on his shades and drifts off to the sound of Ray and Walt arguing tourist attractions.

*

 

Napping between stupid fucking tourist attractions becomes a coping mechanism whenever he's had too much of Ray's never-ending chatter and Walt's running commentary on uninteresting shitty places they're nearing, at, and passing.

When he opens his eyes after one such nap, three days since being fucking taken against his will, Ray's backing into a parking space in front of a rundown diner. Brad manages eyeball the diner and Ray at once. "This place," Ray says, catching Brad's skeptical look, "has the best motherfucking pie in the entire fucking US of A, Brad. No lie. This pie will be your new religion."

"What if I don't have the pie?" Brad asks, "I'm not really feeling the pastry right now."

"Oh, you're having the pie," Ray says, sliding out of his seat and slamming the car door. "You're all having the pie. I am not leaving until you've both had the pie and have sworn yourselves over to its brilliance and deliciousness."

"I'm fairly certain Brad can take you," Walt says, "If it really came down to the pie being bad and our wish to leave."

"Hey," Brad says, "there's no way I wouldn't be able to take the keys from Person's skinny weak grip. The fact that I haven't done so already is clearly a sign of weakened mental health."

"Right," Ray snorts, and leads the way into the diner.

"So where exactly is this road trip leading?" Brad asks while they're waiting for the pie. "Because I have to assume even you two aren't stupid enough to think quality time in a shitty vehicle is the best way to reconnect when really, there is no reason for reconnecting since the initial connection has, in fact, not been lost."

"Aw that's sweet," Walt says, and Ray nods gravely, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee like it's the Holy Grail.

"I always knew you had feelings for us, Brad," Ray says, "That it was just a matter of thawing them out slowly. And it's true, we haven't been exactly honest in our reasons for heading out on this epic journey of fun. As a matter of fact, we do have a final destination, and our final destination is the LT's award ceremony. Some of the guys were talking and we decided it'd be cool to show up in numbers, you know, show the LT that we remember and appreciate what he did for us back then, and since you and the LT have been reenacting the ice age recently, we figured the best course of action was to just tell you eventually."

"Which is now," Walt adds helpfully.

"Because now, if you run, not only will me and Walt know that you're a pussy, but so will they," Ray says, and gestures towards the parking lot where Recon Marines are spilling out of cars like clowns. "And shit, I forgot I had a speech made for you when you meet the LT again, but it's real easy -- you just look him in the eye and you say, '_I'm on a mission and it involves some heavy touching. You've indicated your interest; I'm educated in se--_"

No one in Recon looks particularly surprised to walk into the diner to find Ray pinned to the floor by the Iceman. "Man, already?" Poke says, and he's shaking his head, while behind him there are whoops of approval and laughter and the sound of scuffles breaking out.

No one is really that surprised when they're asked to calm down and leave, either, but by then the first pieces of pie has arrived and so no one is surprised that everyone settles down enough to dig in either.

"We should bring some for the LT," Ray says, and Brad nods with a small grin and says, "You do that, Ray."

"I will," Ray says, head held high, and the entire effect is ruined when he sticks his tongue out at Brad and adds, "but I'm telling him it's from you."


End file.
